Absolution
by commandork-lexi
Summary: "Victory stands at the back of sacrifice." Clarke feels a calloused palm land on top of the back of hers, fingers threading together as they grip the lever as one. The Commander's green eyes burn with a determination that is mirrored in her own, and together they rid themselves of both their enemies—and their mercy. (F/F - Clexa and possible Octaven)
1. A Forced Hand

" **Victory stands at the back of sacrifice.** " Clarke feels a calloused palm land on top of the back of hers, fingers threading together as they grip the lever as one. The Commander's green eyes burn with a determination that is mirrored in her own, and together they rid themselves of both their enemies—and their mercy.

* * *

Bodies, everywhere. It is all that Clarke can see. Around her, amongst the throng of people reunited with their families, the burned corpses litter the ground like discarded trash. Their eyes are held open, wide as they shoot her with accusatory stares, and it is also all that Clarke can feel. Skin peeling off from their flesh, they reach out with their hands, frozen in place as they seek vengeance upon the woman who caused their death, fingers curled into wicked claws that seek to run deep gauges into her sanity. They lay unmoving, and yet it is all that is required to cause a fresh wave of tears to appear in Clarke's eyes.

" **What have I done?** " Her voice shakes. Their screams echo in her ears, drowning out the joyful cheers of the crowd. She stands there, seemingly the only one who is weighed down by her decision to massacre an entire gathering, and she feels droplets stream down her cheeks, leaving hot trails on her flesh. She makes no move to wipe them, however. In fact, she makes no move at all. " **I killed them all.** "

" **Clarke.** " A voice swims into her consciousness, causing her to turn around and eye the Commander, who has been standing by her side the entire time. Her voice is strong against the hum of the crowd, the buzz of the Mountain's lights overhead, fighting through the noise to reach Clarke's ears, as well as her heart.

" **What have I done, Lexa?** " She repeats this question once more, fingers curling into her palms until her nails bite harshly into her flesh, threatening to break them open and bleed. " **They're all dead! Every single one, they're all gone because of me!** "

Clarke fights for calm, but it is an uphill battle. Her entire body trembles from the stink of death, and she feels that if she stays put any longer, she would vomit. Even the mere act of swallowing is hard, as the motion gets lodged into her throat. Her nostrils flare as a wave of nausea and guilt subdues her, and she is nearly overwhelmed, if it had not been for the Grounder Commander, whose hands latches onto her wrists and brings them up between them.

" **Breathe, Clarke.** " The Commander's voice might have been soothing, but it barely quells the war in Clarke's heart. She feels it, still beating mercilessly within her chest, and she would give anything to have it ripped out, stomped on until it beats no more. She feels her head shake, left and right, furiously, as if it would help stop the voices of the dead from haunting her ears.

" **I can't,** " she whispers, her voice shaking in her effort, in her fight to remain standing. Her knees are weak. Her strength is frail. Her weakness grows with each gulp of air she breathes, the same air that killed the Mountain Men, both enemies and allies alike. " **They're dead, Lexa. They're dead because of me! The people who fought us, the people who saved us, they're—they're gone.** "

" **They are not gone, Clarke! Do not be blind!** " The Commander's tone is filled with so much heat, so much ferocity, that Clarke stops shaking her head to stare at the woman in front of her. " **Look around you. Do you not see the life that you have spared? They are not** ** _dead_** **, Clarke. Our people** ** _live_** **. They breathe and walk and rejoice with their families, for they have been spared, for they have been** ** _saved_** **.** "

Lexa holds out a hand, motions to the scene around them, and Clarke follows the gesture to stare at the sea of faces. Grounders and Sky People blur into one as they gather together and grin at their victory. Despite their aesthetic differences, they are all the same, for joy reflects in their gazes and triumph shines in their smiles, making one no different from the other as they huddle close to celebrate their victory.

Clarke turns around, a complete circle, to watch as families and friends are reunited—and yet one face is not celebrating, but rather grieving over the body of a woman. Jasper is in a morose state, clutching Maya's hand desperately, as if it would bring her back to life. Clarke realizes that her corpse is the only one that appears peaceful, and yet when Jasper catches her gaze, the look in his eyes inform her that he does not feel the same way as his lover. No, not a single shred of piece could be found in his darkened oculars. Clarke can find only hate, and so she turns away, feeling far worse than she did before.

" **It doesn't change what I've done,** " she murmurs, feeling the Commander's searing gaze on her back. She faces the woman now, looking up into her paint-streaked face and searching for those green orbs that seek to fill her with strength. " **The children didn't have to pay for what their parents did, but they are dead, all the same.** "

" **With that, I agree, Clarke of the Sky People, but your hand was forced. The children did not have to die, and if there had been any other way, you would have spared them—but what you did, what** ** _we_** **did, was the only thing to ensure the survival of our people. In acts of defence, no one is at flaw.** "

" **But it still hurts. If I could've just—given myself more time to** ** _think_** **, I could've spared the people that helped us, the people who committed no wrong. If I hadn't rushed into that decision… there must've been something that I could've done, Lexa, and I wouldn't be feeling this way if I—** "

" ** _Hod op_** **, Clarke. Halt. Do not, for one second, think that pulling the lever was wrong. It was merciless, but do you think your people would scorn you for that?** " Clarke feels Lexa's grip grow tighter, the spaces between her fingers filled with that of the Commander's until their palms are melded together. " **I understand your pain, I am as sinful as you. And yet you forget that pain does not stand alone. Pain cannot exist without relief, and the moment you let go of what you have done, you will breathe again.** "

" **I can't—** " Clarke has returned to shaking her head, lower lip clasped between teeth as her brows furrow together in worry. A crease appears between them, a small curve of anxiety as she feels hot tears begin to flow again, each breath turning ragged and harsh.

" **I will speak truth. For now, pain is all you will feel. It will demand your attention and it will capture it. It will grip your heart and coil around it until you feel like your heart does not exist at all. It will stay there, even if you will it away—** " Lexa stops, tugging on Clarke's hands until they are closer together, two people standing still in a wave of people seeking out others as they are released from the Mountain's stern captivity. " **But all wounds heal. You have shown me such. They will leave a scar, that is certain, and it will always be there—but you will not suffer forever.** "

Clarke breathes in, and though the air is fresh and sharp, it is tainted with the crime that she knows she will seek absolution for soon. Still, she clings onto Lexa's words and Lexa's hands and Lexa's wisdom, for it is the only thing that she could do, for she fears she will drown into her sorrows the second she lets go of the woman who killed these people with her. She often forgets that Lexa had a part in their death, too, and sees herself the only one to carry such a burden, but the ghosts in the Commander's eyes remind her that she is not alone, that, in this crowd of joyful faces, she shares her decision with a woman who could understood her agony.

" **You are strong, Clarke. You have shown me, time and time again, the power that grows within you. For now, you are weak, but you are not alone.** " Lexa's voice grows softer, and it draws Clarke's attention enough to understand her words. It is as if the Commander has read her mind, saw in her glassy eyes that she recognized this, too. " **You are not alone, and you will never be.** "

* * *

 **Oh, what is this? A brand new, fresh out of the oven fanfic from an author who has been gone for who knows how long? Ooh la la! Hello, girls, boys, and everyone in between! For those of you who have no idea who I am, I am known as Alex Van Heussen, but feel free to call me Lexi. I've been here for a pretty long time, and some of you might recognize me for a couple of Jori (Victorious) fics that I've written in the past. I went through a long hiatus, but, as Octavia would put it: I'M BACK, BITCHES.**

 **Feedback? Reviews? Favorites? Follows?**

 **I would be eternally grateful. Stay safe, gentle-viewers, and see you on the next update. Ciao!**


	2. An Equal

**Mounin, gentle-viewers! Thank you for all the reviews, favourites, and follows for the fic, I really do appreciate it. Now, onto business. I'm hoping I can get a chapter up twice a week, but if I miss one, please forgive me. I barely have enough time to actually do anything because of work so I'm kinda stuck here. Also, I was thinking about creating two side-fics to keep my muse going. Option A is a college JORI fic, while Option B is a similarly post-apocalyptic but more zombie-fied version of The 100 (featuring CLEXA and LINCTAVIA). Thoughts? Suggestions? Throw them at me!**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own The 100.**

 **;**

" **I understand why you did it.** "

The sun is already shining, sending rays of light through the woodland canopy and leaving dappled pools onto the soft, supple earth. Octavia's hands are still wrapped around Clarke's hand, wanting the blonde woman to look at her, _see_ her. Octavia has seen Clarke's sadness swimming in her eyes like ghosts, causing the once-brilliant sapphires to dim and falter. She gazes into those eyes now, seeing not for the first time the damage that has been dealt to her friend's soul.

" **The missile hitting TonDC.** " She keeps her voice low, silent, so that they are the only two that can hear. She sees Clarke tense at the memory, and the wrist within her grasp is threatening to be wrenched free. However, Octavia latches onto her tighter, not wanting to let go—at least, not until she's had her say. " **I don't have to like it to understand why you did it, it's just—I couldn't get all of those people out of my head.** "

Octavia releases Clarke from her grip, only to raise her hand and make a weird, flailing motion around her head, attempting to convey how she feels for words cannot find her, not properly, not appropriately. She is equal parts sympathetic and equal parts outraged, but she has seen Clarke's brokenness, and knows that it is not something her friend did out of cruelty. " **I can still hear their screams and I can't stop seeing how damaged they looked—I got so distracted that I forgot that you were damaged, too.** "

Clarke stares at her for the longest time as they stand in the middle of a tide of people. When Octavia feels that she might either melt or snap underneath the calculated gaze, she sees Clarke nod, and guilt slams into her like the spear that slammed into Jasper, so many days ago. She realizes that her friend is still hurt, hurt from the words she herself hissed by the campfire. But Octavia understands. The best thing she has learned from the Grounders is patience. Grounders do not simply jump without thinking. Precision, accuracy, and success can only be achieved through patience, and as much of a struggle it is to Octavia, she understands that she will have to wait for Clarke to trust her again. _I chewed and spat her out, and it's a wonder she can still even look at me without feeling the need to punch me._

" **Thank you,** " is all that Clarke manages to mutter before Octavia is pulled away—both by her brother, and by her mentor. She peers over her shoulder to give one last meaningful look at the woman who used to be her friend (until she managed to screw it over because of closed-minded nature), before turning towards both Bellamy and Indra. They open their mouths to speak, but she sees Bellamy recoil after Indra gives him a harsh stare. Despite the alliance, she knows that her brother is still weary of the Grounders, if only because of the bad blood that boiled between them before. In the back of her mind, she wonders if her brother is weary of _her_ , too.

" **Octavia, your job is not over yet. We need you to oversee the healing of our warriors. The** ** _Maunon_** **might have fallen, but they are not the only ones that seek to hurt us.** " Octavia sees Bellamy give her mentor a bewildered stare, and the Second has to constantly remind herself that her Sky People brethren have yet to be informed about the existence of the Twelve Clans, and the rogues that revolve around them. She thinks back to the day she was taught of this, that the peace of the coalition hangs in the balance. She has been warned before about the consequences of the Fall, that, by bringing down the mountain, the Clans will know how to walk freely without having to fear the people living _within_ the Earth, instead of on it. Freedom comes at a price, as the Sky People have learned, and Octavia was continually being trained to expect the worst.

" **But she has her people to tend to—** " Her brother begins, only to be silenced by Octavia's own glare. He has seen her defiant before, and merely shrugged it off as a teenager acting on her hormones, but he is slowly beginning to understand that her little sister is not so little anymore, and that she has grown values that are completely different from Bellamy's own.

" **And I will see to those duties too, Bell, but there are things happening that are far beyond your understanding and we can't rule out our defences. You know what happened last time when we lowered our guard.** " Octavia sees him stiffen, nod, for he understands, even if it is quite difficult for him to do so. She appreciates the sentimentality, however, and leans up to plant a gentle kiss on his cheek before giving his rough fingers an equally rough squeeze. " **After I'm done, I'll head straight to Camp Jaha and help you sort everything out, okay? You might not see me until nightfall, but no later than that.** "

With her promise lingering on her smile, Octavia allows Indra to lead her away, easily blending into the crowd of Grounders eagerly chattering around her, celebrating their victory and their reunion with their loved ones. In the corner of her field of vision, she sees Lincoln approach. She threads their hands together and walks with him, each step synchronized and forming a steady, calming beat. She can see in Lincoln's eyes the anxiety hiding beneath a veil of relief; for Lincoln knows it too.

In fact, every single Grounder knows it, too. She happens to glance over her shoulder and sees the Commander walking with Clarke, offering quick exchanges that seem to both reassure and terrify the other. In passing, she hears words in Trigedasleng, a phrase that translates so easily in her mind that is shocks even her when the same words tumble past her lips, causing Lincoln to frown in concern: " ** _Osir gonplei nou ste odon nowe_** **.** " Our fight is never over.

 **;**

Clarke's hands are, once again, clasped around her gun, the cold metal biting into her flesh and reminding her of all that she has done to get to this point… and look where it brought her. Leaving her people is the only option for her to achieve a state of clarity, however impossible it might be to achieve. Peace has left her, and only echoes of it remain, stale as it bounces around the empty chasm where her heart used to be. She remembers being told that who she is and who she has to be are two different things, and now she understands this deeply—for the Clarke in the Ark would never even think of taking lives, for the Clarke on the Ground would never rule out such a thought.

" **Clarke.** " Brown hair spills over her vision, followed by a face tainted with charcoal. Lexa is in front of her, staring into her eyes with those impossibly-green oculars, seemingly cold but Clarke can see right through it. She can remember bringing it up to the Commander, that her mask is not as effective as she believes it to be. Clarke had lied when she said that Lexa was heartless, for Lexa feels for everyone, but simply hides it for she cannot be who she wants to be.

" **I told him what I had to.** " Clarke knows that Lexa had witnessed their exchange, could feel it in the empathy that rolls off of her in waves. " **No one will think to look for me at Polis, I'm sure they don't even know that it exists.** " She offers the Grounder a small smile, one hand reaching up to rub at her neck while the other moves swiftly to tuck the gun into her holster. " **I know for a fact that** ** _I_** **didn't even know it exists before you told me.** "

" **I still do not know why you want to join me, Clarke,** " Lexa asks, confusion laced in her tone as she tips her head to the side. " **You have asked for time—how are you sure that you will find such in Polis?** "

" **A little bird told me that Polis will change the way I see the Grounders. Although how I see the Grounders have changed when I met their leader, I'm hoping that Polis will, instead, change how I see what I've done.** " Her arms rise, cross over her chest as a chill envelopes her despite the lack of wind around them. Only then does she notice that the air has gotten more humid than before, that it is heavy and damp, and that it promises heavy rain. " **You told me that Polis is where your coalition was solidified, your words, not mine. The Coalition stands above the war on the ground, so maybe Polis will help ease the war in my heart, too.** "

" **Polis will suit you well, Clarke,** " Lexa answers reassuringly, and Clarke's heart stutters as the Commander places a closed fist above her chest. " **You will see what I mean, soon. Come. Indra has never been the most patient. She will wait, but she will not wait long.** "

" **Indra's coming with us?** " That thought seems to trouble Clarke, for without both Lexa and Indra, who will be left to watch over TonDC?

Lexa seems to notice the anxiety in her voice. She chuckles and cups Clarke's shoulder lightly, giving it a gentle squeeze before returning the space between them. " **The village is in safe hands with Lincoln. He is the only one that I can trust who will uphold the terms of our alliance.** "

Clarke is substantially surprised, for it had not been long ago when Lincoln's people saw him as a traitor. Now, he will watch over them, ensure that the Commander's word is upheld with both importance and reverence. She wonders if the people will see him with respect, but easily shrugs off the thought, simply because she knows Lincoln is true of heart, and despite the Grounders' brutal ways, they will be able to see that, as well.

 **;**

They do not spend long in TonDC. After changing into more suitable clothes and gathering few materials for the journey ahead, Lexa leads her small group towards the woods, legs hanging around the body of her equine. She leans forward to touch its mane, sifting through white strands and watching them spill like water from her calloused fingertips. In the corner of her eyesight, she sees Clarke catch up, and quickly turns to face the Sky Girl, who seems unsteady on her horse.

" **Do not fear the horse, Clarke. It will not bite you,** " she muses, mirth springing into her voice as Clarke is jostled slightly, causing her to lean forward and grab onto her mount's neck. Once she is stabilized, she straightens her back, allowing her hands to grasp the reigns with the right amount of pressure. " **It is a three day journey to Polis. I advise you to get comfortable.** "

" **This is, what, my third time on a horse? You can't expect me to be an expert all of a sudden,** " Clarke responds defensively, scrunching up her nose as she is forced to duck under a low branch. Lexa sees amusement in this, and allows a chuckle to rise from the depths of her abdomen. Secretly, she is thankful that Indra is a good way ahead of them.

" **No, Clarke of the Sky People. I do not expect you to become an expert, I simply expect you to be logical. Do not fear the horse, for she will sense it and respond in a similar manner,** " Lexa offers, her lips still tugged up in a half-smile that causes Clarke to visibly relax. She reaches out to pet the horse's head, giving it a soft scratch behind the ears before motioning for Clarke to do the same. Hesitantly, she complies, reaching out unsteadily to copy the action. " **Her name is Rosa. She will be yours.** "

Clarke looks up, then, eyes wide in bewilderment. " **I get to have a horse?** "

Lexa allows another chuckle to slip past her lips. " **It is an emblem of honour, Clarke. A sign of your position. You might not see yourself as the Leader of your people, but** ** _mine_** **view you as my equal. It is only right. You have been strong.** "

At this, pink seeps over Clarke's cheeks. The blonde hangs her head, golden hair tumbling over her shoulders until it hides her face. Frowning, Lexa reaches over to tuck the stray strands behind her ear, causing Clarke to gaze at her once more. " **Sometimes, I feel like I don't want to be.** "

" **You are allowed to be weak, Clarke,** " Lexa responds, only to feel her shoulders go slack upon realization of her words. Wasn't it she who stated so vehemently that weakness must not be shown? And now, here she stands, telling a damaged leader that it is okay to be weak. Before she can defend herself, Clarke jumps in, speaking in a voice so tender that Lexa's breathing begins to falter.

" **You're allowed to be weak too, Lexa.** "

Several days ago, Lexa would have denied her this, would have responded with a voice dripping with ice that she cannot, that she is not permitted to—but she has been weak so many times since she met Clarke that she knows she would only be lying to herself. She was weak when she allowed Clarke to take Finn's life, she was weak when she listened to Clarke's suggestion of sparing a Grounder's life, she was weak when she kissed Clarke in the confines of their tent, and even weaker when she held onto the possibility of a future with her when the Sky Girl said that she wasn't ready. Lexa realizes that saying that she cannot be weak is a blatant lie, for she is always weak—and, for that, she has grown stronger.

But Lexa does not tell Clarke of this, and her entire revelation lasts only a fraction of a second. She responds to her companion in stride, simply offering Clarke a smug smirk meant to tease, hoping that it will hide the storm brewing underneath her emerald eyes. " **That will only happen when you manage to ride a horse without having to wince every time she takes a step.** "

Clarke snorts at this, her despair momentarily forgotten, and a determined glow appears in her eyes, blazing like wildfire through a sea of blue. " **Oh, you're so** ** _on_** **.** "

 **;**

 **AND CUT! There we have it, folks, chapter two of our (impending doom) fanfiction right here. I hope that there's enough Clexa fluff to sate your thirst. You will encounter a lot of these during the span of the fic, although it will be a while until we get to the heavier stuff—because, really, you can't expect them to jump straight into drama when they've just gotten out of one, right? But I'll keep you satisfied (hopefully) until their happy ending comes. Now, that's it for today. Ciao, gentle-viewers!**

 **Favorites? Follows? Reviews? Please? 3**


	3. A Bonfire

**Mounin, gentle-viewers! I know, I suck. I haven't updated in gods-know-how-long and no excuse that I say will ever make up for it, but I'm trying to get back into the ebb and flow of things. As it so happens, I'm actually typing this at work like the irresponsible pre-adolescent that I am (because seriously, I've graduated from college and am already working full-time at nineteen years old, I'm allowed to have some fun, aren't I?) so enjoy this sort-of-rushed but not really chapter from yours truly. I'm sorry that I've been gone for so long but I hope you guys will still appreciate this update. See you on the flipside!**

 **DISCLAIMER: If I owned The 100, Clexa would be endgame without a doubt. Unfortunately, I don't, and so we're left hoping and praying that Clarke will forgive Lexa. *sobs***

 **;**

Clarke's dreams are filled with destruction. In it, she sees only a sea of blood, pouring into the corridors of Mount Weather until it drowns out the faint buzzing of the lights overhead. It sloshes thickly against the walls, rising and rising until it threatens to engulf her, overcome her, swallow her whole. She struggles for breath, gasping for air, face barely breaking the surface to inhale what's left of the tainted oxygen of the gushing halls- until she is under, and all she can see is red.

When she awakes, she does so with a stifled gasp, fingers clutching at her throat as she takes a mouthful of air into her lungs. She hears the constant rushing of the stream nearby, the soft crackle of the bonfire sending amber embers into the night sky. It illuminates the clearing, basking it in a warm glow, and she eyes the sleeping figures around her, both human and equine. She counts the bodies, notices that one is missing, and she feels panic rise in the back of her throat like bile.

Before she can voice out her concern, soft footsteps resounds from behind her, and she turns to face the barely-audible noise. Through the foliage, she finds Lexa returning to the warmth of their camp, clutching a small bag in her grasp. The Commander flashes her a reassuring smile before taking a seat beside her, revealing a handful of berries that causes Clarke's mouth to water.

"We have no name for these, we only know them by sight and texture," the Grounder explains quietly, voice barely above a hushed whisper. She pops one of the small, purple berries into her mouth before offering Clarke the next, who took it gratefully before studying it in her grasp. "Unlike many of our fauna, these are edible, and grow sparingly in the wild. Rare, if you will. The skin is made of thin membrane, you need only put the slightest pressure on it with your teeth to bask your tongue in its flavour."

Clarke nods, trusting Lexa's words, before placing the berry between her teeth. It is soft, and when she bites down further, she is surprised when it all but pops in her mouth. More liquid than solid, she notices that it tastes sweet, not unlike grapes, with a partially tart aftertaste. She decides that she likes it, and eagerly takes one more. They share the treat between them, staring at the bonfire in comfortable silence until their fingers graze one another's in futile search for one last berry.

When they realize that their is none left, Lexa simply pockets the empty bag before settling more comfortably by Clarke's side.

"The night is cold, yet you are sweating," Lexa points out curiously, having noticed the light sheen of sweet glistening on her comrade's forehead. Clarke frowns, wiping away the gathered moisture with the back of her palm before shaking her head. Blonde locks come loose from the motion, falling over her cheek, and she blushes faintly when Lexa reaches out to tuck them back behind her ears.

"I dreamt of the Mountain," she explains, seeing no need to hide her dreams from Lexa, who had been there during the downfall. She hesitates, however, on elaborating further, but ends up doing so after seeing the distraught look on the Commander's face. "The hallways were bleeding and I was drowning in it."

Clarke sees Lexa take it all in stride, expecting no response save a strict nod of understanding. However, she is taken by surprise when Lexa shifts closer to her, until both their backs are leaning against the tree and their shared body heat is enough to stave off the frigid winds of midnight. Unable to stop herself, she props her head against Lexa's shoulder, scooting closer until the back of their hands are brushing together.

She inhales softly when she feels Lexa's calloused palm on hers, rough but surprisingly comforting against her own soft ones. With fingers threaded, clasped together, she begins to succumb to the drowsiness brought upon by the Commander's presence and the delectable midnight snack. Clarke breathes in, senses overcome by the scent of earth and wood and petrichor, something that she has grown accustomed to (and rather fond of), and the distinct smell of Lexa.

"I cannot promise you that you will not dream of it again, Clarke, but I can assure you that I will be here when you wake," Lexa whispers softly in her ear, the words sounding so foreign yet so familiar on her tongue. Clarke finds solace in those words before allowing Lexa's steady breathing to lull her to sleep.

 **;**

When Clarke wakes once more, the first thing she sees is the bonfire running low. She attempts to move, but realizes that her hand is still trapped in someone else's grasp. She turns around and finds Lexa asleep, her back leaning into the tree, her face void of tension. Clarke admires her briefly, at the way her lips are held slack and her cheeks are free of scowl lines. The small crease between her eyebrows are gone, too, the one that appears whenever the Commander is deep in thought, contemplation, frustration- she looks more her age than her title. She is not _Heda_ , she is Lexa.

"I can feel you staring at me, Clarke," Lexa breathes suddenly, causing Clarke to pull back, feeling warmth sear against her own cheeks. Slowly, Lexa's lids peel open to reveal irises as green as the forest around them, questioning and searching as they gaze into Clarke's own. "Did you dream?"

At first, Clarke does not recognize the question, but immediately shakes her head once she remembers what Lexa is referring to. Her second sleep had been dreamless, thankfully. "Snug as a bug in a rug," she murmurs before she can stop herself, instantly realizing that Lexa might not recognize the phrase.

The tan woman shows such confusion, the crease reappearing between her brows as she contemplates the string of words blended together so oddly. Clarke feels the sudden urge to brush the crease away with her thumb, and her eyes widen when her body betrays her mind and ends up doing it without her consent. The soft pad of her digit is grazing against Lexa's forehead, but the Grounder shows no sign of discomfort.

"Sorry," she breathes out, pulling away even further and sitting cross-legged in front of the Commander.

"What does the phrase mean?" Lexa appears curious, although the crease between her eyebrows has disappeared, much to the Arker's satisfaction.

"It means I slept comfortably, thank you," Clarke responds, offering her- friend?- a subtle smile. She glances back to the clearing, and only then notices that the rest of their group has disappeared within the treeline. She parts her lips to question this, but Lexa cuts her off with an immediate response.

"Hunting. I was awake when they departed some time ago. I am quite certain some of them are standing guard and lingering nearby," she answers, her words tinged with a gentle chime of mirth. As if on cue, Clarke hears a cough in the distance. Judging by its heavy undertone, she guesses that it must be Indra. "We have a few moments to recollect ourselves before we set off again."

Clarke finds herself groaning at the thought, leaning back until she is lying upon a bed of grass. The sunlight is filtering through the canopy, casting golden rays to dapple the undergrowth, and Clarke finds herself admiring the view from below. She hears Lexa shift around, and it doesn't take long until they are laying side-by-side, looking up at the forest ceiling with their shoulders pressed together. The closeness is reassuring, soothing. "It's so beautiful down here."

Clarke barely notices that Lexa is looking at her. "I agree," Lexa whispers in hushed tones, eyes falling to Clarke's lips before seeking the foliage once more. "You will be enamoured by Polis, Clarke. This is just the beginning."

A deep chuckle rumbles through Clarke's throat. "I believe you," she responds before looking at her companion, only to find her staring back. They share each other's gazes, green meeting blue, and Clarke remembers why her people originally warned her against the Grounders. They will capture you, ensnare you, take you for prisoner, and keep you as their own. Except Clarke doesn't see anything wrong with that.

In fact, she quite fancies the fact that she might belong to the Commander someday... but the time to say as such has yet to come. _She_ was the one who asked for such, after all.

 **;**

 **And there you have it, folks! I know that it'll never be enough to say sorry for my absence, but I sure hoped you guys liked that little moment between Lexa and Clarke. Honestly, I just love their chemistry, and these subtle (and not so subtle) scenes are what keeps me going whenever I feel low on life. I mean, every small action speaks louder than words, and the two together- god, I can never write anything good enough to justify them. Their perfection (and imperfection) can never be properly made into words because it transcends what we understand. Anywhooo, I apologize if there are any typos here. The company computer that I'm working on doesn't have autocorrect. Reviews are** ** _very much_** **appreciated! Those will keep me inspired. OH! And if you have any prompts for me, whether related to this fic or not, leave 'em as a review, too, and I just might whip up something or another for it. So, yes! Kind of like with my EWHAS fic for Jori! Send me either a single word (e.g. mirror, tattoo, rose) or an entire prompt (e.g. zombie au, college au, skyrim au) and I'll make 'em into something.**

 **I can't promise you a given date for the next update because we all know that I suck at time management, but I'm hoping to get one more chapter in before the end of the year. Happy holidays, gentle-viewers! Ciao!**


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